Working on a commission for a client in Switzerland. Aphrodite. 

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Exploring Goddess Archetypes. Almeria, Spain. May 2021

Exploring Goddess Archetypes, Albox, Almeria, Spain. May 1st – May 8th 2021

Painting Goddess Archetypes. A week-long painting retreat in a lovely Spanish cortijo in Albox, Ameria, southern Spain. We will be exploring Goddess archetypes through oracle cards, painting, writing and guided meditations. This retreat will be self-catered. Albox has plenty of shops, cafes, bars and restaurants.

All materials, art tuition and art supplies and lodging will be provided. Also, a guided walk with a local guide. Cost is £850 (GBP) per person payable via Paypal or bank transfer. A (refundable) deposit of £200 (GBP) is payable prior to the retreat. To secure your place please email me: alicejulietmason@gmail.com or use the contact form above. Flights and insurance are not included. I can arrange for transfers to and from the cortijo at additional cost. Balance is payable 4 weeks prior to the workshop.

Local painters are also most welcome. If you live close by or in Spain and have your own accommodation and want to join us, the cost is 50 euros per day.


Painting our Goddess Archetypes

Exploring Goddess Archetypes through Divine Feminine oracle cards, painting, writing, guided meditation and nature walks.

May 1st to May 8th 2021

Cost £850 GBP per person

Non-painting partners welcome, at £450 per person.  (They will be with us for the walk and trips.)

(All deposits and pre-payments are refundable at this time, due to Covid-19 uncertainties.)

Saturday, May 1st 2021

10 am.  Opening circle, introductions.  Self-catered lunch 1 pm.  Afternoon: 2pm.  Guided meditation, writing and a discussion on Goddess archetypes.  Painting together.

Sunday:  10 am:  Painting together all day.  Instruction and tuition by me throughout. All meals self-catered.

Monday:  Discussion, sharing. Divine Feminine oracle cards, guided meditation.  Painting all morning.  Lunch 1pm.  Afternoon trip guided by me to local beauty spots

Tuesday:  Guided meditation, poetry writing, painting morning and afternoon.

Wednesday:  Painting, lunch.  Afternoon more painting or free time.

Thursday: Nature walk with local guide

Friday:  Group discussion on our paintings.  Sit and meditate with our paintings and ask what they are telling us.  Painting, lunch, painting in afternoon.

Saturday:  More painting, lunch, Closing circle.

If you would like to be on my mailing list for future retreats, please get in touch.

I would love to hear from you!

Alice xx


More of my art work here: www.alicemason.net

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Hilma Af Klint

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Etsy listing. Cave of the Moorish Moon

in my Etsy shop https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/880849983/the-cave-of-the-moorish-moon

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Etsy listing. Cave of the Moorish Moon

in my Etsy shop https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/880849983/the-cave-of-the-moorish-moon

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The Cave of the Moorish Moon

The Cave of the Moorish Moon. La Cueva de la Luna Morisca.  With gold leaf. I often paint women with their eyes closed to add an element of dreaming to the image and to leave the message from the eyes up to the observer, to elude further narrative.
#alicemason #sacredfeminine #caveofthemoon #moorishmoon #goldmoon
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What are ‘cases’? What are ‘ infections ‘? Are we being controlled through language? Loaded ambiguous words? Semantics? Are cases illnesses? Are they symptomatic? Asymptomatic? Mild? Severe? Hospitalisations? PCR tests are highly unreliable, showing constant false positives and showing positive for the minutest fragment of virus that we have come into contact with in our pasts. We contain thousands of viruses. It has always been thus.
The Junta of Andalucia has announced it wants people to wear masks inside their own homes. This is on mainstream media and was on Canal Sur..
Students on lockdowns for possibly months within university campuses in northern England because.of ‘ cases’. . The hospitality and music industries all but destroyed. Young people’s education disrupted. Jobs, millions of jobs, gone. Mental health issues through the roof. Suicide way up. Cancer treatment, breast- screening, gone, postponed. The NHS hugely minimised. Because of ‘ cases’. The meaning never clarified. No one wants to ‘kill granny’.
We are being manipulated into thinking it is something right- wing to question the lockdown policies. This is abhorrent to left-leaning people as they ( I being one) would be appalled to think they could be considered right-wing. People questioning narratives or calling out fascism being called conspiracy theorists. I despise Trump. Doesn’t mean I agree with the destruction of livelihoods and children’s and young people’s mental health. Children being treated as though they are weapons of mass destruction. Deprivation of social contact. Sinister, illogical and unclear at best. Is vaccination the new disaster capitalism? Why is Bill Gates the new second coming? The darling of the left? What has happened to the left? Where is the nuance? Tyranny is the deliberate removal of nuance. Where is the dissent? Where are the questions? Why did we all speak out against the Iraq war, but no questioning of the policies surrounding a nebulous and shadowy virus which has a 99.6 per cent survival rate? Yes it was bad in the spring. Yes it killed many people. It has weakened…it has become fetishised and hyper-focussed, an obsession of a thing. Endless, constant, grinding, wearing. There is no opposition, so people demonstrate in Trafalgar Square and again are called right-wing . Absolutely rubbish. Some people I know have gone on the demos are anything but QAnon conspiracy theorists, but feel alienated and feeling powerless, join forces with people of other persuasions as they have no voice and no one is speaking for them, at least not intelligently. Little wonder they believe in the wilder narratives because MSM is worse. And they have no jobs, and everything they hold dear is being denied them. Old people unvisited in nursing homes, dying alone. People being denied doctor’s appointments. I could go on and on.
Heaven forbid we should commit the cardinal sin of questioning or transgressing our own previously held beliefs and political allegiances. It is dividing us. Society is disintegrating. Because of something that is not killing anyone directly anymore. But the collateral damage is. I don’t believe the stats and I don’t believe anything much. There is no one making any sense. At all. Whatever happened to the policy of ” flattening the curve? ” But now we have to endure restrictions ad infinitum with no apparent end in sight. Until when? The Holy Grail appears in the form of rushed vaccine upon which billions will be made… ? The ‘ vaccine ‘ I fear, is the new economic reset. And after which, perhaps miraculously the virus will ‘disappear’ and will no longer be reported on.
I can’t do this anymore. I can only do what I can do, which is be there for my family and try to find strength in my art practice and the sanity I know exists within my friends and allies in this unknowing and ever more polarised world. It’s all just a smokescreen now.
NB. Other viruses are available and will no doubt contribute to the endless barrage of reports of ambiguous cases. Nothing is clear. I have been listening for months to virologists, historians of pandemics and immunologists who have been left out of mainstream media.

The Machine Stops by EM Forster – outlines a world where people live in isolation, never moving, fearing the merest touch from another human, and where a machine totally dominates and oversees their existence. Prescient.

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Recent photos and reflections after my Archetypes workshop in Las Alpujarras, Spain.

Back in the UK, and breathe. Breathing into the wind in the trees and the air from the sea. Mind cooling. I have decided to only hold art retreats in the spring, autumn and winter in future. The next one will probably be in Almeria. I am excited to discover a new part of Spain, and have loved the new friends I have made in recent weeks. I am back in my studio and so happy to be painting and listening to my beloved music again, with the sound of the trees doing their autumnal wind-sway-dance. Blessed by cooler air, I am able to think again. And there is a lot to assimilate. Mainly it is about finding my heart centre in the midst of this government control, being there for my beloveds. Feeling my feet on the ground and rooting myself, using painting as visual secular prayer.

I have updated my website with photos and thoughts from the most recent art retreat:


To register an interest in my art retreats please contact me on alicejulietmason@gmail.com

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When Summer Turns To Fall

Thank you xx

Livia Ether Flow

Za kilka dni koniec lata, a mam wrazenie ze ledwo sie zaczelo, a post z 23 wrzesnia pt SummerTime 2020 – 2012re-minders jakbym pisala zaledwie przed trzema dniami a minal juz prawie miesiac…


Dzisiaj z rana w ogrodzie zauwazylam kilka nowych Motyli i wiem ze te Rusalki Pawiki narodzily sie tutaj na miejscui ze nie byloby ich gdyby nie Pokrzywa ktora w moim ogrodzie zajmuje honorowe miejsce!Jest to wciaz ta sama Pokrzywa ktorej malenka kepke przenioslam z poprzedniego miejsca i ktora wiaze sie z historia o ktorej pisalam w poscie:

14 LIPCA – Rose ofEternity


Obok Pokrzywy rosnie Budleja, to ta o ktorej pisalam w poscie z zeszlorocznego lata:


a oryginalnie w poscie pt.


W moim Ogrodzie sa tez obecne Rusalki Pokrzywniki i inne Motyle… Z Roslin w ostatnich dniach, wlasnie z tych z pogranicza lata i jesieni, do…

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A Place

You can fall in love with a place, and you can feel a sense of spiritual homecoming for a while. You can do brave things and hold art workshops in a place and gather all the people together and the paints and the canvas and devise the process, curate an inspiring music playlist, hold space for the participants for a while and plan walks and expeditions. You can jump into the waterfalls and drink the high mountain spring waters and gather the water in as many bottles as possible and take them down with you to the town with the labrynthine streets and the loud church bells which clang their quarterly message that sounds more like an iron foundry than anything holy. Then when the people leave the workshop you are alone for a while. There is a relief. The air starts to cool and you sleep and sleep and sit at the cafes with the old men. The old, round and funny waiter knows what you order; a cafe con leche and agua con gaz. You know the rental car is scratched and you didn’t get enough insurance on the car, and you try to find a bodywork painter who can fix the scratches on the car. You ask them what they can do but when they answer they put a mask over their mouth because there is a mysterious virus circulating the earth. You can’t really understand what they are saying because your Spanish isn’t good enough, and to understand, you need to partially lip-read. He says to come back when the boss arrives, so you go into town again and try to find a parking space, and everyone else is trying to do the same, tempers frayed. You eventually find a space and have to photograph the name of the street because it is miles from the house you are renting.

In the streets, the people are masked; faceless. You have bought some food at last, and decide to cook a meal that makes you feel at home. Roast chicken, potatoes and broccoli. You have friends here but feel you can never really belong. When you were young, you took off to California and France and made a home there for some years. Now things are different, and belonging isn’t something you feel you can create that way any more. Belonging is where your children are, your family is, and where laughter, hugs and endless cups of tea are shared. Where you all sing around the piano or share your stories.

You miss the sea and the rugged coastline. The green grass and the blackberries and apples of autumn. It was brave coming here alone and there is nowhere on earth quite like it and your soul is filled by flat-roofed Berber houses and the mystery and bewitching magic of mountains, that endlessly change with the light and each bend in the road. Maybe it is time to stop searching, as you already have it. You weep for the comfort of love you left behind. Does every sweet soul remind you of your father? Are you always searching for him? Your father you lost too young, when you had just had your first baby and were unable to grieve properly for him. Maybe it’s a lifetime’s work, trying to replace him. Maybe mountains are a physical manifestation of a father for you. Strong, exquisitely beautiful, majestic, priest-like. You were so lucky to have him. His name was Cliff. He was the divine masculine. Sacred. He had your wanderlust and the same rare nomadic blood group. You are so happy your son and daughter carry his genes, his height, his nobility, his humour, his gentleness and bravery.

Maybe soon, in these strangest of strange times, it is time to go home to the heart.

Yet another day comes. It feels kinder, you feel stronger and you start to not mind the alienation so much. You sit on the roof terrace at night and listen to the old women sitting in the street and crocheting the world to rights. You talk to friends and loved ones and buy yourself something beautiful, you do your laundry and tidy your room and feel a oneness and peace with this mountain town.

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